Left
by MyIndulgence
Summary: Please be debating.


It was dark, not in concept, but in the room, making him seem even more alone as the space agreed that everything was bleak and depressing. There was sadness in the air but his expression stayed stone cold, only his closed eyes showing that he might be debating his next action.

_Please be debating._

The gun bounced up and down when his knees animated into frustrated life. A sigh ripped from his teeth, anger putting its claws into the breath. The aim was easy to see, straight at his forehead. Bullet meant to fly through the air, smack through all of the impossibly annoying thoughts, and end them right then and there.

_Don't be angry with me._

A loud clattering signified the gun being forcefully forgotten to the ground. Harsh, calloused hands rubbed over an equally worn expression, too much having passed through these pupils to see any ounce of purity in the world. The loss of the last thing that made sense created a cloud in front of his eyes, as if nothing could ever connect together without the deductions to give the world order.

_You can live without me._

Tears were pricking at the exhausted eyes but they wouldn't pass by the thick walls that being in the center of war had created. The time served had been a hell undefined but this time it was the fall from a heaven that didn't need any pearly gates to exist. Finding a person that had a clock that ticked just the same as the one in his own chest, the gears fitting together too perfectly to deny, and, beyond a continual understanding, a cure that was easily given for the pointlessness he had felt.

_I must go John. I'm sorry I can't do anything more._

The form sitting on the bed suddenly jumped when a scraping sound came from the wall. The window was flipped open but all that could be seen was a flash of a blue scarf. John popped out before he could even consider the treacherous height and started across the narrow ledge like it was the size of a street. He rounded the corner but there was no one there. Before John could deflate completely, he saw the same flash of blue. A scarf, the scarf, the trademark for the person he was missing so desperately fluttered in the wind, trapped on a corner of the roof.

_Don't come around the corner. Please don't._

John ventured out further on what he hadn't reminded himself was dangerous and reached for the fabric. It was soft but not delicate, the same feeling as had been around that incredibly white throat. The body that he could remember touching, even in the most platonic ways, and now missed so much. Said missed body let out a silent breath, glued to the wall around the corner, cursing himself for being so sloppy. John tightened his fist around the fabric.

" Why do these things keep happening?" John muttered to the air. Sherlock was wondering the same question:

_Why do I keep messing up?_

John brought the scarf to his nose, breathing in the smell that made him close his eyes. It was the perfect mixture of chemicals, a light touch of sweat, and a scent that couldn't be defined because it was simply Sherlock. John could picture Sherlock, remembering what it was like to stand next to the taller man. The scarf dropped with John's arm, the tight hold loosening.

" I'm starting to feel like someone's pranking me with this." John said to the air then looked down to the blue fabric in his hand. " Bloody bastard if they are."

_Maybe I am a bastard._

Around the corner, a small smile came to Sherlock's face, so much of him wanting to communicate with John but the rest of him knowing he couldn't break this invisibility brought on by believing to be dead. Even if, in John's eyes, he was. Sherlock's vision picked up when he saw blue swish by him, his instant reflexes grabbing for it. His scarf was returned to his light-skinned hands by random chance of wind currents. Sherlock slowly turned the corner, taking care to keep himself hidden, and looked at John.

_Please just be looking at the people walking by._

John was standing on the precarious ledge, hand open that once held Sherlock's scarf. He stared down at the street with a glazed over expression. The memory, one of the worst of his life, replayed as it had a hundred times before, sometimes at night, sometimes in the day. It was even in his nightmares. The image of Sherlock looking down at him from the ledge, making no sense on the phone, and then…then the moment when he jumped off so damn smoothly, like a falling angel.

_Step back!_

John's shoe scuffed on the very edge of the roof, bringing his mind back to the present. His foot paused over the empty space. The air that he could fall through, for a few seconds fly in, but ultimately the air that would drop him to the concrete below. It was a much shorter distance than Sherlock fell from but the damage could kill him. John let out a breath to mingle with the empty space. His foot returned to where it had been. John looked down to see the neatly folded blue scarf right next to him. He leaned down, carefully, and scooped it up.

" You came back to me." John let out, slightly amused in his sadness that this tricky piece of fabric had somehow returned to him.

_I'd never leave that scarf._

" Now, bring your owner back." John said, almost commanding it to do this for him.

_I'd never leave you either._

John lightly brushed over the fabric then stuffed it into his pocket. It stuck out but it was held enough for John to move forward. His steps brought him around the last corner, sliding on the roof tiles before he could get all the way around. John's breath pulled in at the sudden risk but righted his body quickly. He paused for a moment to collect his wits. John straightened his spine then finally went around the last place Sherlock could be if this strange occurrence really could be explained by the simplest solution. As John should have expected, there was no one there, not even a hint there had been someone. John sighed, heavily, staring at the spot that he hoped with all his heart once held the detective.

" You were right there, weren't you?"

_Good deduction, John. I'll see you next time._

_When I miss you too much._


End file.
